


Yours Faithfully, Friend

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Famous Liam, Heartbreak, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's hard to think about what we were, because admitting that it relates in past tense means it's just that. The past.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Small gigs turned into larger ones, radio interviews turned into playing on Chatty Man and that Irish program where Niall was treated like a superstar. It got to the stage where even Liam couldn't remember the last full week he'd spent in their home. Harry tried to be there, but it wasn't as if he could come out to every show. The last few times when he would have been able to because they were playing close, Harry'd had exams and Liam understood why Harry couldn'tcome along. He did. Even if it hurt to look up and not see Harry mouthing along to the words, doing his dumb dance moves at the front of the crowd. He just wanted Harry to himself, was all. It was irrational to be annoyed that Harry couldn't <i>be</i> there all the time, no matter how much Liam wanted him to be.</p><p>Love is easy, relationships are not. Somewhere along the line, Liam forgot that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsyt31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/gifts).



> the much belated birthday gift for my Sweet Potato. Based on the Foy Vance song [Regarding Your Lover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Grc7iW_zhpg) because Foy Vance is our heartsong.
> 
> Beta'd by my Su who's FINALLY come back to me after a year and a bit off from 'the job' and [Kate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaturgicallycorrect/pseuds/dramaturgicallycorrect) because she's awesome like that.

_It's hard to think about what we were, because admitting that it relates in past tense means it's just that. The past._

 

His smile was the first thing Liam noticed. 

He was working behind the bar - a place badly lit at the best of times - but tonight with what lights there were focused on stage, it was a miracle Liam could see him at all. He must have been new. Liam and his band had played this bar on and off for the past year now, and he'd never seen this bloke before. Yet there he was, serving two girls a few drinks while Liam was fiddling with the strings on his guitar, waiting for Louis to get back from the loo so they could head into their next song. 

He was good looking, in that scruffy pretty-boy type of way, long dark curls bouncing at his shoulders, cherry lips pulling into an easy smile that was framed by dimples. He was wearing the standard white tee that the bar staff wore, his left arm littered with black ink from wrist to elbow, disappearing under the cuff of his tee that cut into a toned bicep. Pretty all right. Not really Liam's type, but he hadn't exactly taken his eyes off this lad, either. Something that hadn't gone unnoticed by the other bloke, catching Liam out with a tilt of his head and a mouthed "Hello" that had Liam blushing.

Thank god for the near nonexistent lighting on the stage between sets.

Still, he lifted his hand from the fret board and gave the other lad a quick wave, feeling like a right tit the moment he did so. Even if the other lad waved back, he still did it with a laugh that Liam could hear clear across the room, which just made Liam feel even more embarrassed. He didn't have a chance to worry about it any further with Louis bounding back up onto stage headed to his keyboard. A quick tweak to Liam's nipple, Louis' trademark sign he was ready to start up once more. Usually, Liam could evade Louis' tactics but he had been otherwise occupied.

He shook his head, closed his eyes for a moment, and started them in on what was probably too soppy a number for this particular pub, but Liam had always been one to go with his heart. The same heart that was beating all the faster from sharing a look with a pretty lad across the bar. 

They played on and finished their next set, then Louis thanked them all and threw in a plug for their EP (that was really no more than a few CDs they'd paid out the arse to have studio time to record. The bloody thing only had three songs on it, the owner had promised them five). Liam thanked a few of their fans – because they'd played enough around Manchester now to actually _have_ familiar faces wherever they went – before packing up his guitar and heading toward the back door. His eyes might have lighted on the bar as he passed. He might also have pretended he didn't _really_ care when he couldn't spot the pretty barman from earlier. If his smile did fade a bit, he could put it down to tiredness. That was all.

Niall was already out at the van, packing away their gear, when Liam got out there. Niall and Josh were always keen on getting everything sorted so they could start putting away pints and pulling birds. Liam mostly stuck around to be the designated driver, getting them all back home. He'd never been one for drinking, and it wasn't as if he had someone to go home to, someone waiting for him.

"Tommo's just finishing up with the owner getting our cash," Liam said, sliding his case into the spot at the side where it would fit up against Louis' keyboard when he finally got it out there. 

Niall jumped out the back of the van, giving one last shove to their amp to keep it in place. He was already stripping out of his navy button-up to a black tee he'd worn underneath. Bloody sweaty lad that one, even if he didn't really move all that much. Liked to blame the lights, but Liam knew it was more to do with how nervous he was every time they got on stage. Still, a little bit of nerves never hurt anyone. The more excitable Niall was, the better he played in most instances. Liam wasn't sure how that would play out in the long run, if they were to play to places bigger and better than the Fox and Hound. 

"You comin'?" Niall asked, pushing his hair up this way and that in the reflection of the back window. He'd definitely be looking to pull tonight, then.

Liam shook his head, holding up the cigarette he'd kept behind his ear since before they'd got on stage. It was ritual really. He liked to think he wasn't actually a proper smoker. Only liked to have a few now and again, and one most definitely after a good gig. Niall nodded and gave Liam a wink before heading inside, reminding him to lock the doors before he joined them.

Liam rolled his eyes and sat in the back of the van, leaning up against the amp as he patted down his pockets looking for his lighter. He’d had it earlier, maybe. He was sure he'd picked it up off the coffee table where he and Louis had shared a spliff the night before. Or maybe Louis'd grabbed it. He was still patting his chest, checking the pocket on his plaid overshirt, when he heard the door to the pub open and close. Some new Beyonce number spilled out along with the sounds of laughter for a moment before the alley was quiet again. 

"Oi, Tommo, did you grab the lighter by any chance before we left?" Liam called out, not looking up as he lifted up half his arse, tucking his fingers in his back pocket.

"Not Tommo, but I think I might have one on me," another voice answered instead. Liam's eyes widened as he raised his head. 

It definitely wasn't Tommo.

The lad from the bar wandered over, tugging his hair up into a knot on the top of his head. He smiled as he finished, the light from the street lamp giving the dimples in his cheeks more definition. God, Liam had thought he was lovely before, but as he stepped closer Liam noticed more. He was tall and lean, broad shoulders filling out that white shirt and obscene-looking thighs in the skinny blue jeans he was wearing. Liam had no idea how his hand could even squeeze into them as he wrested out a cheap-looking red plastic thing from the front pocket with a triumphant grin. His walk was pigeon-toed, and for some reason this just made him more interesting. 

"Thanks," Liam said, taking the lighter from the other lad's fingertips. 

The bloke shrugged and bit at his bottom lip in a way that made Liam have to look away, pretending that lighting his cigarette took a lot more concentration than it really did. He looked up again once it was lit, taking a drag that had him remembering why he both hated smoking and loved that first drag of nicotine into his system.

"D'ya mind?" the lad said, nodding to where there was space beside Liam in the van.

It was the least Liam could do really, offer a seat, considering there was nowhere else apart from a crate by the back door to rest on. He shook his head and answered through a breath of smoke, "Not at all."

The other bloke smiled a bit shyly and sat down closer than Liam expected, making Liam shift over to the right a bit. "'m, Harry," he said, holding out a hand that Liam took, pulling his smoke in closer to his chest to reach over. 

Harry's grip was firm, skin cool to the touch, probably from handling drinks and ice inside. That was the only reason that Liam felt a chill run up his arm, his skin prickling with gooseflesh. Nothing else.

"Liam," he said in return, being polite. "How long've you worked here then?" Liam asked, rubbing his hand on his thigh in a way he hoped looked inconspicuous. If Harry noticed, he said naught. He was too busy looking at Liam's face anyway, which was something else entirely. Harry's eyes were a real proper green, Liam noticed, being this close. His lips a bit chapped-looking, but still a rosy hue and plump in a way that made Liam imagine he'd be really good at kissing. Amongst other things.

Fuck, how hard up was he if he was thinking things like this just sitting _beside_ a decent-looking fellow?

Harry coughed, hiding it behind his hand, light glinting off the silver of his rings. "'bout four months? Usually do a few nights during the week, and some day shifts if Uni allows. Third time I've seen you lot, though." 

Liam blew out another stream of smoke and Harry coughed again, hiding it behind his hand. "You’re almost a fan then," Liam said, tipping ash with the crook of his finger onto the ground below. He could almost feel the heat from how close Harry was sitting like a burn over his entire side. He wasn't sure if he wanted to shift away or closer. 

Sitting still was pretty much his only choice. 

Harry cleared his throat and scratched at his cheek and jaw. "Well, yeah? I love the cover of that Bruno Mars song you do and, um, Hotel California?" 

Liam scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground, hunching in on himself a little. Of course Harry liked the covers, it was pretty much what they were hired to do here. But of late, Paul had let them add a few of their own to the set, to mixed review. 

"Your own stuff, though," Harry said, laying his hand on Liam's thigh just above his knee, making Liam turn enough to see how serious Harry looked. "I really like your lyrics, yeah? Love how you all sound together." 

Liam grinned, looking up at Harry from where he still had his head tucked into his chest. "Thanks." If he hadn’t been blushing before, he certainly was now. "Um, what one do you–" He stopped, Harry's coughing interrupting the rest of his sentence. 

"Are you all right?" Liam asked, swapping his cigarette to his opposite hand, patting at Harry's back where he'd leaned over. 

Harry nodded, red-faced as he sat back up. "Asthma's playing up a little. Happens every spring without fail. Hay fever in the day, coughing fits at night." He grinned almost apologetically at Liam, squeezing his hand over Liam's leg where it still sat. "I'm okay, really. It's just the smoke, I guess."

Liam's eyes widened and he dropped the near finished butt to the ground, stomping it out with the toe of his shoe as Harry went on about how it was "fine, really." Liam shook his head. "You should have said! It's not like I need it. I mean, I don't smoke all the time or anything."

He should have asked. Or at least _tried_ to blow it away from Harry's face. 

"You didn't know, and I'm like, I'm not even supposed to be out here?" Harry's voice went up at the end, making it sound like a question that Liam didn't think he was supposed to answer. "It's just, I wanted – I'm not supposed to have a break for another hour, I don't think."

"So why are you . . ." Liam led off, a tad confused. He ran his fingers through his hair a little nervously because Harry's cheeks had gone even redder than before. 

Harry's nose crinkled up before he answered. "I saw you come out and I saw your band come in, and . . . ." 

"Oh." Liam paused, feeling slightly flustered. Did he . . . did he mean he’d come out just for Liam? Like, _just_ for him?

Harry nudged Liam's knee with his own. "So you were, erm. You were staring in there, right? Like, you were looking at me, not those girls at the bar?"

Liam nodded slowly in return. Harry was interested and Liam was a little lost because he hadn't done _this_ in a while. His relationship with Danielle had ended badly after two tries to get it right, and Tom was fun until he fell in love with someone else. After that, Liam had decided to concentrate on the band. Harry, though. Harry had really lovely green eyes and a cheeky grin that, paired with where his hand still sat on Liam's leg slightly higher than before, spoke of a confidence that Liam hadn't quite picked up in how he spoke. It made Liam a little confident, too. 

"Yeah. I mean, out of the three of you, it was definitely you I was staring at, yeah," Liam near mumbled, feeling a bit awkward admitting it. He'd fucking _waved_ at Harry – of course Harry knew who he’d been staring at. 

Harry's dimples deepened though, and he knocked at Liam's knee again with his own. Christ, he was so _lovely_. Liam was staring a bit at Harry's mouth, watching the way his tongue slipped out to wet his lips as he was about to say something, when the sound of the club door opening again had them both jumping apart.

Liam hadn't even realised he'd been leaning in. Or that Harry had, either.

"Wotcher, Payno!" Louis called, keyboard under one arm and a pint in his hand. Liam's heart was racing nineteen to the dozen as he cleared his throat to ask if Louis needed any help.

Louis snorted as he looked back and forth between Liam and Harry. If Liam was blushing a bit before, he was lit up like a ruddy furnace now. "I'll just leave this here, yeah? You're always better at fitting our gear in tight spaces," Louis said with a leer, taking a long drink of his pint, eyebrow quirking up in a way that only after years of practice reading Louis' ticks did Liam know meant a decidedly loud "Get in, mate!" as his blue eyes flickered between Harry and Liam. 

Liam took in a breath to argue the difference, but ended up letting it out with a huff and a shrug. Louis sort of had a point. And the longer Liam could go without actually admitting it to his face, the better his life would be for it. 

"Best leave you lovebirds to it!" Louis added with a tip of his head, spinning around and heading back inside the pub, leaving Liam and Harry in a much more subdued wake. 

"I'm sorry about–" Liam started, at the same time that Harry said, "You leaving soon then?" 

They stilled and Liam stuttered out a laugh, dropping the lighter with a muttered "Shit!" because he hadn't even realised he'd still been holding onto the bloody thing. It was a near comedy of errors as Liam and Harry both leaned over to pick it up, bumping their heads together. Both of them uttering apologies, one after the other, until Harry waved Liam off, getting his fingers around the red plastic and slowly sitting back up. 

"So, um. Are you?" Harry said, and maybe that bump to the head was a bit worse than Liam had discounted it as. 

He frowned. "Um, am I what?"

Harry bit at his bottom lip again, making the pink skin bleach out white. "Leaving. You've packed it all up now, yeah? Just waiting on that last bit your mate brought out?"

"Well, yeah, Louis' keyboard is the last of it, but I don't – I don't have anywhere to be." 

Harry's smile could have lit up half of London with Liam's answer. He squeezed his fingers tight over Liam's. "I've got work and all, but you could keep me company at the bar or something."

Harry would be busy at the bar. He'd probably have to flirt with people that weren't Liam, too. All part of the job and that. The thought didn't really sit well with Liam. Not after the short amount of time he'd had Harry's attention. 

"When do you get off?" Liam spat out. _Shit, fuck._ Blood rushed to his cheeks as Harry guffawed, loud and echoing in the quiet of the night. "I mean finish. Like, I think my mates'll be here 'til close."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'll be here until then. Have to clean up a bit after, but it won't take long. Paul, the owner? He lets me leave a bit early, or I'll miss the last bus home." 

"You could miss it on purpose, yeah?" Liam found himself asking, lost in Harry's big green eyes and the way one stray curl formed a ringlet just under his left ear. Christ, his stomach was lit with butterflies smashing about in hobnail boots. He hadn't done this in so long, but here he was anyway. "You could come back to mine?" 

What the hell was he doing? He never took lads home like this. A quick blowjob in the loos or a handy in the back of someone's car, sure. But to his house? The shitty little flat he shared with Niall as well as two other lads that went to Uni together wasn't exactly the type of place he'd like to take anyone to. Yet there was something different about Harry. Liam didn't want to shag him – well, not right this moment – he just wasn't ready to let him go yet, was all.

Harry grinned slowly, his fingertips brushing against the back of Liam's hand, and slipped his fingers between the spaces of Liam's own as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I'd like that."

 

_It always felt too easy in the beginning. Falling into you, into each other, into us . . . ._

 

"Fuck," Liam swore, utterly out of breath. He threw his forearm over his eyes as Harry curled up beside him, one leg thrown carelessly over Liam's thigh. 

Harry snorted. "Think we just did that and we did it _well_ , if I do say so."

Liam laughed, eyes crinkling up as he twisted onto his side, wrapping himself around Harry. "And you say so, do you?" Liam asked, rubbing slowly over the sweat-tacky skin of Harry's spine. 

Harry's lips were a light press to Liam's chest three times before he answered. "Yes. You were there – how would you rate it then, Mr. Payne?" 

Liam took a long breath and let it out slowly, unable to hide his smile. Fuck, it'd been three days since they'd moved in and they'd hardly left the bedroom. Then again, they'd hardly left each other’s side since that night at the pub. Liam had never felt like this before with anyone, ever.

Six months of this and he'd given up waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Harry made him so unbelievably happy, he couldn't think of a time when he'd ever felt like this before. He curled his arm over Harry's waist, pulling him in closer, brushing his lips over Harry's curls. God, he loved him so much. Harry made Liam so happy just by _being_ there. It was almost unfair how great Liam felt. Harry'd quit his job at the pub once the band's contract had come through a month ago. He still had Uni, but he'd told Liam that he'd be happy to commute on the weekends and such. Harry'd see about transferring somewhere closer for his last year. It would be worth it if he could be with Liam.

"I really fucking love you, you know?" Liam blurted out. Harry snorted, nipping at his chest after.

"I really fucking love you, too," Harry answered, pushing Liam over until he was on top of him, legs spread over Liam's hips as he slipped his hands under Liam's pillow on either side of his neck. Harry was grinning, that one that Liam liked to think of as his and his alone. Dimples deep and lips pulled easily apart, his eyes big and green and happy. As happy as Liam felt.

"I do, though, you know? I love you so much and you make me . . . you make me smile all the time. Louis keeps teasing the shit out of me for it," Liam said, scrunching up his nose as he remembered how Louis had pelted him with chips at Nando's after they'd found out they'd got their recording deal with Sony. Liam was banging on about how he couldn't wait to tell Harry, how excited Harry would be for them. It didn't take Louis long to start in on how ridiculous Liam's face was, all lit up and fucking _glowy_. Louis and Niall had given him a fair bit of stick, making Liam's face flush almost as red as the Henley he was wearing. 

And Harry had been ecstatic. He'd dragged Liam into his bedroom and had Liam's cock down his throat before Liam had even got the door closed, much to Niall's amused catcalls from the hall. Harry'd been nothing but supportive ever since.

Harry's curls were hanging about his face now, a fuzzy tangle from when Liam had had his hands in it earlier. It had started out in a bun, but that was before Liam had walked back in from talking to his mum out on the balcony overlooking the Thames and London's famous city skyline. Eight bloody floors up and all paid for by the record company, just so they would feel "comfortable" making their album. The other lads were all on the same floor. Liam hated to think how much this was costing – or if it would come out of their earnings later. He'd said something to Harry along those lines, but the conversation was put aside when Harry shushed him, dropping to his knees and tugging Liam's joggers down just enough to get his cock out before sucking him down. Messing up Harry's hair had come later still, when Liam used it to hold on to while he fucked Harry's mouth. The elastic had split when Liam had become a little overzealous, Harry's curls tumbling everywhere while Liam finished in his mouth.

They'd only made it to the bedroom because Liam didn't want Harry's knees getting sore while he had him on all fours, eating him out. 

"Louis' just as bad when Eleanor's around. Probably jealous that she's not, really." Harry looked thoughtful. Liam knew it was a bit strained between his band mate and Louis’ longtime girlfriend ever since they'd had the chance to move to London and she'd stayed behind in Manchester. Unlike Harry. Liam hadn't even wondered if Harry would come or not. Harry'd been just as excited about the move and the record deal as if it were his own.

Liam reached up and pushed some stray curls behind Harry's ear, sliding his hand down to cup Harry's cheek. "Harry . . ." he started, then stopped, too overcome with emotion to say anything else. He was just so bloody thankful for having Harry in his life. For being able to share with someone who wasn't in the band all of the crazy that his life had become since Simon had signed them. For having someone who was there for him, just for him.

Harry blinked slowly, dark lashes dusting his cheekbones as he leaned in close and rubbed the tip of his nose against Liam's. "I'm here, though," Harry said softly, echoing Liam's thoughts. 

Liam sighed. "I know it's a lot. I do. You've school and your last year and–" He stopped as Harry shushed him, whispered Liam's name pressed into his hand. "I'm very glad you are here, you know. It means so much." 

Harry shrugged, dropping his gaze from Liam's for a moment, focused somewhere on Liam's chest. It was a look Liam couldn't quite read, maybe didn't know enough of Harry's looks _for_ him to work it out. It was gone in an instant, though, the smile he loved best blooming back across Harry's face. 

"No place I'd rather be."

 

_I never expected you to actually do it. You were always the one who said it. Threw that out there when things got tough or weren't working the way we both wanted, we both hoped._

_I guess we both wanted different things in the end._

 

"If you're going to go, just go," Liam sighed, throwing himself on the sofa and rubbing at his eyes with closed fists. He was tired. So fucking _tired_. Of this. Of them. Of what they'd become.

He'd been home a week this time and Harry'd basically given him the silent treatment since the minute he walked in the door. It was ridiculous and childish and it all had to do with Liam being home _more_ , but why would he even want to if this was what happened when he _was_ here?

"Don't think I won't, Liam. Don't think I won’t pack it all in and leave you."

Liam took a deep breath before he answered. "You say this every time. Every time we fight you say this and yet–"

"I'm still here! I'm here and I keep coming back because I–" Harry paused and Liam felt the unsaid _I love you_ tear at his own heart. "I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot to think things will change. That _you_ will change. I should just go, you're never here anyway, it's not like you'd notice!"

Liam opened his eyes and looked up, saw how upset Harry was. How their shouting, the endless circle of this argument had affected Harry, too. The tears that stained his cheeks, how red his eyes had become, the fight leaving his body as his shoulders slumped, and Liam couldn't sit there any more. He was up and pulling Harry in, just holding him close. It made something heavy take hold in his chest, hearing Harry think about him like this. Liam just . . . he loved Harry. Loved him and this band and this life. It was hard, though, balancing it all, and he’d thought he could. Maybe, maybe he wasn't doing this as well as he had thought he was. 

"I'd notice, of course I'd notice, Haz," Liam whispered, pressing his lips to the curls at Harry's forehead. He hated fighting. Hated fighting about this in particular. It wasn't his fault. Not entirely. Harry was struggling through his last year of Uni, having shifted from Manchester to London to be closer to Liam. It helped a little. He was at home when Liam got in from recording their first album, was around when they started doing a little promo. Then the single took off to number one and life as they knew it changed forever. 

Small gigs turned into larger ones, radio interviews turned into playing on Chatty Man and that Irish program where Niall was treated like a superstar. It got to the stage where even Liam couldn't remember the last full week he'd spent in their home. Harry tried to be there, but it wasn't as if he could come out to every show. The last few times when he would have been able to because they were playing close, Harry'd had exams and Liam understood why Harry couldn'tcome along. He did. Even if it hurt to look up and not see Harry mouthing along to the words, doing his dumb dance moves at the front of the crowd. He just wanted Harry to himself, was all. It was irrational to be annoyed that Harry couldn't _be_ there all the time, no matter how much Liam wanted him to be.

Harry finally wrapped his arms around Liam's waist, his forehead resting on Liam's shoulder as he let out this broken sound. "I don't want to fight any more," he whispered.

Liam swallowed hard before answering. "You think I do?" he said softly. "I hate that we've been like this, that we _are_ like this every time I’ve come home for the past year now. It's not supposed to be this way."

God, there were tears prickling at his eyes once more as he spoke the truth. Laid it all out like he'd been trying so hard not to with every visit home, with every fight they’d had time and time again. It was hard, being on the road and promoting their first album as much as they were. Not having Harry as twenty-four/seven as he had become accustomed to through writing and recording as they had done was difficult. It wasn't easy, when he was so used to waking up to Harry singing in the shower or making breakfast in the nude, or just hearing Harry's voice in the next room instead of over the bloody telephone. Liam missed him a lot and he knew the feeling was mutual, but it didn't stop the arguments when he _was_ home. Lately, it seemed like arguing was the only thing they did do together.

Harry was quiet and Liam was too. His last words felt almost like they were hanging in the air surrounding them. No one else seemed to do it this hard. No one else seemed to fight as much as they did. Not any of their friends, famous or not.

Liam wasn't sure how to fix it. 

Harry pulled away first, slid out from Liam's grip and took one step back, and then another. He took in this shaky breath as he slid his fingers through his hair, tucking wayward curls behind his ear. Liam felt each shift away like a string tugging at his heart and it _hurt_. But what didn't lately?

"No," Harry said with a shake of his head, hair falling back over his eyes. "No, it's not." 

He turned and headed toward their bedroom and the door snicked closed, a loud sound in the quiet of their flat. 

It probably should have been telling, then, that Liam didn't follow.


	2. Chapter 2

_I was stupid to think moving us both to LA would be the answer. You hated being on your own and then we were working in the States more than we had back home. It seemed like an easy fix – buy the house you wanted, get the dog I’d always dreamt about, be close to the studio, fewer time zones to travel through if you came out on the road with us, things you could do now that Uni was over._

_I was stupid to think that we just needed time. Time to let things blow over. Time to let things lie. Time for words that cut too close to the truth to let us heal._

_I should have known better._

 

He found out about Jeff from a friend. 

Jeff, who was one of the many agents at Liam's band's agency. Jeff, who was one of the many agents and who was also the president's son. Jeff, who lived in LA and who was always around and took Harry to see the Rolling Stones and Fleetwood Mac, and who worked out at the same Soul Cycle as Harry while Liam was off touring in New Zealand and Japan. Jeff, who was that stupid brand of Californian hippy hipster bollocks with his kale and his wheatgrass shots and acai bowls and electric car and all the things Liam was not.

He tried a wheatgrass shot once, for Harry. 

Spat it straight back out all over the counter and the poor girl working there.

He left a ridiculous tip and tried to help clean up while Harry was in near hysterics, bent over in tears of laughter beside him.

Jeff, who hadn't toured most of Australasia for the first three months of the year, followed by Europe for the next four. Jeff, who hadn't spent months recording a second album in some cut-off mountain retreat in Iceland because there'd be "fewer distractions." Jeff, who saw Harry every day. Could hear his voice with a simple phone call, not having to worry about time zones. Jeff, who'd had more of Harry than Liam had in over a year.

But this was the choice Liam had made. _They'd_ made. 

Work hard. Push harder. Get the band on a good footing, build their fanbase and then ease off a bit. Let their talent speak for itself.

This was the life he'd always dreamed of, so why did it hurt so much that "Jeff" was every other word out of Harry's mouth?

Liam wasn't jealous.

He was not.

"You are, though! You're ridiculously jealous of someone who’s my _friend_ , Liam! That's all we are, yeah?" Harry looked upset, looked hurt and angry, and it was all Liam's fault, yet again.

"I don't . . . I don't have many of them here, you know? It's hard when you're off on tour and I'm here looking after the dog and the house. It's not that I don't like it. I love our life, Liam, I love you. I love you so much, it's just – it gets lonely and Jeff's . . . Jeff's good at taking my mind off things."

Even through the slight delay in their Skype feed Liam knew, he knew he should just stay quiet. But he heard things. Saw photos online, because apparently when you were dating world famous singer-songwriter Liam Payne you also counted as somewhat of a celebrity yourself. Especially when you were spotted coming out of parties with an Azoff. Especially when you were sighted getting into your car outside _his_ house in the early hours of the next morning wearing the exact same – but wrinkled – clothes you wore the night before.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I should come home more between dates. We'll work longer breaks into the next tour, yeah? We could share a bunk on the bus like we did that time in Glasgow? We're in Florence next, you could come out and get some sun, abuse the minibar." It felt like he was clutching at straws, more so when Harry shook his head from side to side. The limp hang of his curls was almost as sad Harry looked.

"I've got Aimee and Ian's wedding in New York next week," Harry answered in an almost resigned way. "Even if I came out after I'd still be on my own, Liam. You have interviews and sound check and promo to do. It's fine. It is what it is," Harry finished with a shrug. "You'll be home in a few months. It's okay. Really. I'll find something to do."

It tugged at Liam's heart, hearing this. He knew how hard Harry found it to find work. The last job Liam had set him up with through a friend of a friend of his stylist hadn't worked out. They'd figured out who Harry's boyfriend was and made things a bit difficult, wanting to know all about "the Liam James Payne." He was often waylaid by paps at the gate to their home, which had made him late for a few job interviews, and explaining _that_ as the reason never went down too well. Liam knew Harry was bored, but there wasn't anything else Liam knew how to do to fix it. That, and Harry said he was happy to be a "kept man." 

It was just that lately it seemed like Harry's previous making-light-of-it-all tone had changed to something a little less palatable. A little more bitter on his tongue as his mouth twisted around the words, no hint of a smile as his green eyes sharpened into something Liam couldn't label. Didn't necessarily want to.

Liam felt awful that his boy, his Harry, felt this way and there was near to nothing Liam could do about it, not right now. Not when the tour was almost halfway through. Not when there was talk of them going straight into the studio to record album three as soon as the last concert was done. 

Maybe he could talk to their label. See about an extended time off. Or make it somewhere nice and sunny, someplace Harry would want to come and get away from everything. Someplace they could have a house to themselves for a while, a bit of room for the dog. 

"I miss you," Liam said instead of arguing. He found himself doing that a lot of late. He didn't get enough time with Harry as it was. He didn't want to waste it on another round of debating that did nothing but upset them both. "I didn't think this would be so hard."

Harry laughed but it wasn't a happy sound, it was strained to match the tightness around his eyes. "I didn't either. Christ, do you know how long it's been since . . . well, the distance between us isn't the _only_ thing that's hard." His cheeks pinked up and oh. 

_Oh._

Liam's eyes widened and yeah, fuck, he missed that, too. It was the other reason he'd worked out this Skype call. He'd even locked the door and made sure Niall was keeping Tommo out for the night. He'd been interrupted far too often by his so-called best mate. More so of late, seeing as Louis and El had split up and Louis constantly wanted a wingman, meaning that Liam was always going along for the ride. He was always with Louis of late, whether Liam was shoving Louis in a car to take them back to the hotel alone or checking that Louis had the NDA ready to go before anything happened with his girl once they got there. It was a fine line between mate and big brother, but he knew Louis was hurting so he did what he could to make it easier. Even if it was to the detriment of his own sex life.

Tonight, though, or whatever time it was for Harry, tonight it would be different.

He'd made sure Niall was the only one with a key to this door. Paid Niall in two days free of Louis watch so he could golf, _just_ so Liam could have this time with Harry.

Christ, how had he even forgotten that this was what he wanted?

"Niall's got Louis out at a club across town. Shouldn't be back for hours," Liam said, hand already toying with the strings on his joggers. 

Harry's mouth dropped open into a perfect round O shape before sliding into a crooked grin. His eyes lit up as he picked up the laptop, the picture going wonky as he stood, cursing as he knocked into something – Liam gathered it was the coffee table – heading out of the room at a quick pace.

Liam blinked, feeling slightly dizzy. "Where are you going?"

"The bedroom, Liam," Harry answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, still cursing about his toe and "that fucking fucker of a fucking coffee table."

"This is probably a pointless, question, but why? It's not as if anyone's going to interrupt you in our living room, is it?" 

Harry stopped on his climb up the stairs, moving the screen until he could gaze straight at Liam with a raised brow. "No, it's not. But you're on a bed and you said we had time so I thought perhaps both of us having access to something comfy to lie on would be a good idea?" 

Well then. "I guess you have a point."

"Thank you. Now if you don't mind waiting until I get us sorted in the bedroom before you start pulling clothes off, that'd be lovely." 

Liam grinned. "Babe, for you? Anything."

Harry snorted and continued up the stairs to where their bedroom lay. His jerky steps gave Liam a view that was mostly the tips of the birds inked on his chest. All courtesy of that lovely V of skin where Harry's shirt wasn't buttoned up, as usual. Liam palmed at himself over his trackies anyway. The thought of what Harry might have in store when he got them sorted in the room was enough to have his cock fattening up against his thigh. The last time they'd had time for this – and fuck, that had been a while ago – he'd watched Harry come three times before he passed out, once with Harry's own fingers and twice with the dildo that was an exact replica of Liam's cock. Liam had fallen asleep not too long after. 

The "Create Your Own" was a joke gift from Louis for Harry's birthday that he probably didn't think they'd use. Or use so much. It had a vibrating function that tended to make Harry's dirty talk take it up a notch. The things Harry spouted while he had the thing buzzing up inside him had been downright filthy on more than one occasion. Liam was rather hopeful that Harry'd reach into their bedside drawer and pull it out.

The picture shook again as Harry got the laptop settled on the bed, turning it and tilting the screen so Liam had the best view of Harry's body where he stood at the side of the bed. Liam couldn't see Harry's feet, but he could remember what they looked like and they weren't all that important right now. He did let his gaze wander from Harry's knees up over the thick meat of his thighs encased in skinny white jeans that looked almost bloody criminal they were so tight. He moaned softly as Harry snickered, noticing. 

"It's been a while, hasn't it, babe?"

Liam bit at the side of his bottom lip, nodding. "How did you even get those jeans on, Harry?" 

Harry grinned, leering a little. "Effort and elbow grease."

"Are you going to be able to get them off?" Liam asked, concerned a tiny bit because, fuck, he couldn't even make out where Harry'd tucked himself. It wasn't as if Harry was small or average by any means. There was a reason, at the beginning of their relationship, that Liam had ended up with lockjaw on more than one occasion.

He still had to remember to stretch out his jaw a bit even now if he wanted to spend some quality time with Harry's dick in his mouth.

Harry stopped when he'd just gotten the button of his fly undone, hands on his hips, head tilted to the side. "Liam, I'm trying to make this a bit more sexy than you and me getting our kit off quick and getting off even faster. You're sort of ruining it, babe."

Liam mimed zipping his lips shut and sat up, pulling his shirt slowly over the back of his head, tightening his stomach muscles and flexing his arms to give Harry a bit of a show. 

"I'll be good."

Harry's cheeks were pinker when Liam looked at the screen after throwing his shirt someplace to the side. He shook his head with a snort, almost whispering to himself. "Bit hard after that display, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

Liam scratched at the patch of hair covering his chest, slowly skimmed his fingertips down until he hooked his thumb under the elastic of his joggers. He tugged them down at one side so the white of his skin where his pants usually lay was on show. 

"Liam," Harry hissed. The sound made Liam grin hard to himself as he looked up at the screen. The flush on Harry's cheeks extended down his neck now, making the birds on his chest stand out as he ripped at his shirt, buttons flying all over the place. It took everything for Liam to not laugh.

"Keen, are we?"

"Three weeks, two days, and about ten hours, give or take, Mr. Payne," Harry answered far too quickly for the numbers to be made up. He probably had a calendar. Probably wrote the date down in one of those diary things he was always carrying about. Liam could hardly remember what town they were in when he had to name-drop it after they played their first song of every concert. That's why it was mostly Niall's job now.

"I love you, you know?" Liam said. Harry's head snapped up from where he was bent in half, dragging his jeans down from his thighs. 

His dimples popped deep. "Love you, too. Love you even more when I get this off and I can watch you touch yourself bare."

"Been thinking about it, have you?" Liam asked with a grunt. Harry's words were enough to rile him up. He slid his hand under his joggers and circled his fingers loosely around his cock, ignoring Harry's earlier request to make it last.

He didn't want a show. He just wanted Harry.

The speed with which Harry was trying to drag his jeans off was a probable sign that he was on the same wavelength. Which, considering what they were about to do, was for the best really.

Harry went careening off to the side, his naked arse the only thing Liam saw for a moment as he landed with a curse.

"Are you okay?" Liam called out, stilling his hand from where he'd begun to stroke himself slowly. It was a hard thing to do, but Harry had fallen over. Then again, he was clumsy at the best of times, let alone when he was all worked up. There had been an incident early on in their relationship where A&E were involved after a rather unfortunate accident with the glass wall in their shower, which wasn’t exactly as sturdy as they’d thought. Thankfully, it was that safety glass so there were no major cuts or breaks, though Harry's arse had had a great purple bruise on it that lasted for two weeks afterward, and Liam's pride may have taken a hit from having to admit what they were doing to a nurse that was around the same age as his mum. Even her name was Karen, which didn't help matters at all.

Harry popped back up, swiping the hair from his eyes and giving Liam a quick thumbs-up. "Yes. All good. Good good."

He stood up, his cock slapping against his stomach. Obviously one part of Harry's anatomy was more ready than others. "Now, where were we?"

"I think we were at the stage where you tell me to take my joggers off so we're on an even footing." Liam flicked his wrist over the head of his dick with a little more exaggeration under the cover of his grey joggers. 

"Yes. Yes. It's important for us to be equals in this. Yes," Harry muttered, climbing up on his bed and fiddling with the laptop again so Liam had more of a view of Harry's torso. The head of his cock bobbed into view as he leaned in and moved the screen this way and that.

Liam's mouth watered. Christ, he really missed the taste of Harry's cock.

"Fuck, I wanna suck you so much," Liam blurted out, his brain-to-mouth filter shorting out now that he could see in mostly HD clarity the object of his affections. And the rest of Harry was there also.

Harry hummed, this dee, sex-fuelled sound. "I really miss your mouth. Miss kissing you a lot, amongst other things."

Liam laughed, all hoarse and short, as he pushed his joggers down with one hand, the other squeezing at the tip of his prick, wetness already sliding over his fingertips.. 

"That's better," Harry sighed as Liam leaned back into focus, pushing the material the rest of the way down using his feet, leaving it pooled around his ankles. 

Harry had one leg bent close, foot flat against the bed, giving Liam a near perfect view of where Harry had his hand curled in a loose fist around his cock. Fuck, he was so damn beautiful and Liam wanted to touch him _so_ much his whole body near ached with it.

"Is that new?" he asked, shifting up higher against the padded headboard, splaying his legs wide while he fiddled with the screen of the laptop, fixing the lighting on his side. There was a hint of shadow at Harry's hips, identical on either side.

Harry's breath caught a bit as he answered, fingertips trailing over the dark curl of leaves inked into his skin. "Yeah, had them done a few weeks ago. Didn't I tell you?"

Liam shook his head, a pang of guilt and sadness taking place in his chest. "No, you said you were thinking about getting something but–"

"Do you like them?" Harry interrupted, tilting his head so his curls fell across one shoulder. His eyes had darkened already, but they still managed to look slightly innocent. Liam wanted to _ruin_ him.

"Mmm," Liam murmured, giving his cock a quick stroke before dipping his hand lower, rolling his balls in the palm of his hand. "Bit of an indicator, aren't they?"

Harry snorted, cutting off with a whine as he started made a circle with his forefinger and thumb squeezing tight around the tip of his dick, giving him something to fuck through. "Would be if you were here. Was thinking more along the lines of a wreath, you know? Like the ones the Greeks wore in the Olympics?"

Liam groaned but in a way that had nothing to do with sex, more overt fondness at how truly woeful Harry's line of thinking was. " _Babe_ , really?"

Harry grinned, biting at his bottom lip. "Well, yeah. Crowning glory and all that?"

Liam rolled his eyes, dragging out Harry's name with a sigh. 

"Fuck, Li. Let's not talk about it any more, yeah? I just wanna watch you get off. I've missed this, missed you at home more, but this . . . ." Harry hummed, his eyes fluttering for a moment as his hips lifted from the bed, cock sliding slick with precome through his fingers. Harry was right. Why should they be arguing about the ridiculousness of another one of Harry's tattoo's when they could be getting off?

Liam let his fingertips slide back further between his legs and rubbed the dry pad of his index finger over the tight furl of his hole. It sent a shiver up his spine, had him fucking up into his fist and another curse echoed from Harry's side of the screen.

"Yeah, missed that, have you? Missed me opening you up on my fingers? Getting you all wet and ready with my tongue? I miss the way you taste, Li. Miss that dark heat of you in my mouth."

"Oh christ," Liam whined. Harry'd always known exactly what to say to get him off, and tonight or today – depending on which side of the screen they were on – it was definitely working. 

The tip of Harry's pink tongue flicked out across his berry lips. He was so fucking pretty, and like this . . . Liam really wished there wasn't a screen and so many, many miles between them.

"Want that, yeah? When you get home? We'll finally use that seat in the shower, get you all clean before I mess you up again." Harry paused, eyes sliding shut for the merest of moments, like the thought alone was getting him off. It probably was. It was definitely working for Liam. 

Liam nodded, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock with his thumb. The heat that had started off pooling in his belly was on the move now, sending sparks up his spine with every shift of his hand, every soft moan from Harry's side.

"I'll eat you out, yeah? Get you dripping before I even get my fingers in you. Want to see if you can come like that, Li? From my fingers and my tongue alone? We haven't done that in so long." Harry's voice had taken on this husky, deep tone that, combined with the words he was saying and the promises he was making, had Liam fucking into his hand faster, tapping two fingers at his rim as a reminder of what he could have. Would have, when he got home.

Harry was working himself over with soft gasps and groans, one hand at his chest, fingertips rubbing over his nipple, the other wanking himself off slowly. Harry always did like to take his time and Liam didn't really expect any different. Always tried to make Liam come first, especially like now when they were so far apart, when Liam didn't have anything to ground himself with, just Harry's voice in his ears and Harry's filthy mouth.

"Looks a bit dry there, love. Why don't you get your hand wet, yeah? Suck on your fingers a bit before you slide them in. I know you like it to burn a bit, don't you?" 

Liam groaned, let his legs splay wide as he slipped his fingers between his lips. He made a good show of sticking his tongue out, letting saliva drip down into his palm as he sucked his fingers greedily. He was surprised at how much was there, really. His mouth was drying up from how harsh his breathing had become seconds before. 

Harry grinned, arching his back as he bit at his lip. He'd probably bite the thing raw before they were done. It didn't matter how much he did say to get Liam going, it was whatever was going on behind those brilliant green eyes of his that he wouldn't say that was the thing that turned Liam on more. 

"Yeah, that's it, love. Think you could take two of them straight away? Or shall we start with one? Get your arm under your leg, pull it up to your chest, yeah? Give us a good view." Harry had slowed his hand down now, just working the head as his eyes were focused on Liam.

It felt like there was a buzzing under his skin from wherever Harry's eyes lighted. His knee, his stomach as the muscles there shifted with every shaky breath he took. Focused between his legs as Liam slowly pushed his finger inside, had to close his eyes and concentrate to get through the initial burn. It had been a while. He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd done this himself or, worse, when Harry'd done it for him.

Still, he pushed that type of thought from his mind because Harry was mostly here now and Liam didn't want to waste a second of it. 

"How's it feel, babe? Need us to stop for a bit so you can get some lube?" 

Liam shook his head. He probably did, but he didn't want to stop now. It burned, yeah, but it still felt so fucking good. He pressed in to the second knuckle, sliding his finger out slowly before pressing in with a second. Harry cursed and mumbled something about being careful, but Liam didn't have time for that. It felt too good. He needed that bit of hurt to remind him of how good it would be when it was Harry there instead. Of how slow and proper Harry would take care of him. Liam deserved this bit of pain for all the Skype calls he'd missed, all the downtimes when he hadn't made it home because of one excuse or another.

He'd find time for them to be together again sooner. Maybe after Harry'd been to the wedding he'd call. Harry always got a little sweet at weddings, a little randy at the end when he'd drunk too much and was full of the love he'd picked up from everyone else. They'd actually broke the bed at the little hotel in the English countryside after Louis' mum got hitched. 

Maybe they could try for that again when Liam finally got home.

"Fuck, you look so hot, Li, just lying there, taking it like you are. Love it when it hurts a bit, don't you, babe?" Harry's voice had dropped again, this whisper of a thing that was just above a moan. He was sliding his hand over his cock in earnest now, squeezing at the tip so more precome would slip out, wetting his way on the downstroke. He always became _so wet_.

It made Liam remember that his other hand was still wrapped in a loose hold around himself. Made him start fucking into his fist again as he finally got two fingers deep inside his hole, twisted them a bit in the right way to find his prostate, gasping as he did so. It wasn’t the same as having Harry do it – his fingers were longer, the angle better – but it worked.

Harry was sitting up a bit taller now, watching Liam with eager eyes as his strokes sped up. 

_"Harry,"_ Liam whined, so fucking turned on now it felt like he was lit up from the inside. Everything was Harry's voice, Harry telling him what to do, how he looked, how Liam made Harry feel. 

"Can you come like that, babe? Fucking your fingers raw like you are, tugging at your prick till it hurts? Jesus, fuck, you're so hot, you make me so–" Harry cut himself off, hips shifting off the bed, his hand a blur between his thighs. 

It made Liam groan all the louder and twist his fingers a little more so his knuckle was a near persistent rub against his prostate, sparks flying up his spine. He needed to close his eyes, needed to focus on Harry's voice but wanted to watch him all the same. Harry was so beautiful like this. Skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, the paler part of his thighs shaking as he fucked up into his fist, stripping the head. His teeth a white press into his full bottom lip, nostrils flaring as he watched Liam with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Please," he whimpered, not sure what he was asking for but needing something all the same. "Harry."

Harry cursed again before he answered. "Come on, love, you must be close, yeah? Show me, Liam. Show me how good it feels." 

Liam grunted as he picked up the pace, choked out Harry's name as everything slowed and sped up and expanded all at the same time. The side of his thumb caught at the slit, that and the twist of his fingers on the slide out or Harry calling his name in encouragement once more was all it took. His breath rushed out in these harsh punches from his chest as he shot all over his stomach. Thick white lines of come dribbling down the sides of his fingers as Harry groaned through the screen, Liam sliding his fingers out from between his cheeks, breathily trying to focus on Harry now. 

"Fuck, _fuck!_ " Harry near shouted, voice hoarse as he came, blotting out most of the moth inked on his stomach along with a patch over one of the leaves they'd talked about before.

Liam's lips tingled and his chest ached all of a sudden, seeing Harry as blissed out and breathless as he was. Knowing that if he was there they'd be kissing right now. He'd have his tongue in Harry's mouth and Harry would be trying to shove at him so they didn't get stuck together, but would still end up pulling Liam close. 

He really fucking _missed_ Harry.

"Jesus, babe," Harry said, the smile slow to form on his lips as he blinked over at Liam almost sleepily. "That was . . . wow."

Liam snorted and reached over to pull the laptop closer so he could see Harry better from his side. His whole body was tingling with what they'd just done, but his heart seemed to feel the distance between them even more. It made his lip tremble when he breathed out. Made his eyes sting a bit. 

Harry didn't appear to notice. Too caught up in the come-down, too busy lying there staring at the roof and then at Liam before he grinned and laughed a bit and his eyes flicked up once again.

They lay there for a bit, both silent with Liam's fingers twitching at the screen every moment or so. As if he could reach out and touch Harry. Prove that he was here, just as much as Harry wanted him to be.

He was about to say something, mention maybe coming out to the wedding or something, but stopped when he could hear Loki's barking from somewhere beyond the bedroom.

"Is that Loki?" Liam asked, brow quirked as Harry took a deep breath in and stretched his arms high enough to hit the headboard. 

"Maybe? He's probably got in the laundry again. I keep trying to teach him he's an outside dog now. He's not a puppy any more." Harry looked down at his stomach with a wince and reached over to the bedside table to grab a handful of tissues, and started cleaning himself up.

"You can let him inside sometimes, Harry. I don't want you feeling lonely and dogs are good for that, make you happy by just being themselves," Liam said. He looked around for something himself, wishing that the hotel had tissues in a more convenient spot than the loo. 

"I know that, Liam. But you're not the one who has to clean up after him if he gets into the bin or decides my bloody shoes are much more interesting to chew on than all those toys you bought for him that he just leaves all over the yard." There was a hint of bite to his tone that had Liam sitting up a bit, taking note.

The sound of Loki's barking became louder, and with it an added male voice. Liam knew that the area where they’d bought the house was pretty secluded, with a gated entry and then their own private fencing. He was always at Harry to keep the front door locked. It made him worry a bit that Harry appeared so nonplussed by all of this, and made his heart feel even worse with Harry's next words.

"Shit, I think that's Jeff," Harry said, rolling up off the bed in one fluid movement and bending down to grab his jeans from off the floor.

Liam's eyes bugged a little. "Jeff? Why would Jeff be coming over now?"

Harry paused, looking at the camera with a roll of his eyes that left Liam feeling tetchy. "He said something yesterday about popping by. I didn't think we'd be this long."

Liam didn't really have anything to say to that. Guilt settled heavily in his chest, though, because Harry had a point. Their calls of late had been short and to the point. Nothing like this. Sometimes it felt as if they were simply calling because it was what they were expected to do, not because they desperately missed the sound of each other’s voice.

"Fuck, I'm never going to get these back on in time," Harry whined, jumping around with his jeans around his knees. Any other time Liam would be giggling at the sight, but now it just felt like Harry was in a rush to be gone.

Liam sighed, the euphoria from seconds earlier seeming to dissipate with every inch of Harry's skin that became covered up. "I don't know what you're rushing for anyway. It's not like he's just going to come in, is he?"

Harry grimaced a little, huffing as he jumped about, dragging his jeans up. "Well, yes, he does have a key."

"You gave him a _key_?" 

Harry frowned, pausing from where he'd just managed to pull his jeans up over his thighs and waist. "Yes? Who do you think feeds Loki and looks after the house when I'm visiting you, or last month when I had to go home for Gran's funeral?" 

Liam felt his stomach drop. He hadn't been able to get away in time to be with Harry for that. Had a full day of press and a concert that night as well as an appearance on the VMAs after that, none of which Liam could get out of. 

"You said you understood, Harry."

"Of course I fucking did," Harry snapped, green eyes flashing as Liam's own widened at the tone in Harry's voice. 

"Harry," Liam said, voice soft and tinged with hurt. He'd tried. He'd tried to get back to Harry in time for anything, but Harry'd been in Cheshire when Liam was finally in LA and then he'd had to continue the tour when Harry'd flown back home. Harry had kept refusing Liam's offers to fly him out to wherever they were spending the next night or weekend, just wanting to be alone for a bit. Liam had understood to a degree but he'd felt helpless doing nothing. But it was what Harry'd wanted. Well. Had _said_ he wanted at the time.

Harry sighed, squeezing his eyes shut before he continued. "I did and I always do. I just . . . I miss you and today was great and I don't want to fight any more, okay?"

Liam nodded. He didn't know what else to do. He was so far from home and would be for a long while yet. He heard Jeff calling Harry's name again, and even if Harry was half dressed, Liam was still lying on the bed with his come cooling into a tacky mess on his stomach and chest. He should probably clean up and sign off. The thought of doing either made that ache in his chest start up again, the one he'd tried to get rid of for the past week and had hoped this Skype call would lessen or fix in some way. Now he'd gone and bloody fucked things up with Harry – again – and the tightness surrounding his heart seemed to double.

"I'll come home, yeah? I've got the middle of next week free, I can just–"

Harry smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes as he shrugged on a black hoody that Liam knew Harry had stolen the last time Liam was home. The one Harry always insisted he take on tour only to steal it back the moment he and Liam saw each other again. It usually made Liam ridiculously happy to see Harry wearing his things, but now it felt like the opposite. Harry shouldn't need an article of Liam's clothing to feel close to him. Harry should just _have_ Liam. Liam should just have Harry. Liam _missed_ him, was all. Missed him a bloody lot.

"I'll be with Nick for the wedding, remember?" Harry answered, hand on top of the laptop ready to snap it closed.

"Oh," Liam returned in a quiet voice.

Aimee and Ian. Nick. Harry's friends he'd made when they'd lived in London. Friends Liam wasn't really on that close of terms with. He always felt dumb around them for some reason, like they were laughing at him more than with him when he tried to tell a joke. It was sort of understood between him and Harry that Liam and Harry's Primrose Hill pals didn't mix. It was little wonder, then, that the invite didn't extend to Liam. He tried not to feel left out. Tried not to feel like Harry was shutting him out when Liam was trying to bridge the gap. 

Jeff's voice rang out again, a lot clearer than before. He was probably making his way up the stairs.

"It'll be fine, Li. You'll be back before we know it. I better go, babe. Love you, speak soon!" 

And that was it. A quick smile and a kiss blown through pursed lips and he'd shut the screen down, ending the call. 

Liam sighed and scratched at his stomach, wincing when his fingers slid into the sticky mess he'd made there. Harry was right. Liam'd be home in a few months and they could fix things then. He'd talk to the others, see if they could turn their break into something a bit longer. Just the thought had Liam smiling once more. They'd be okay. They'd be fine. They just needed some time, that was all.

_To think that I always thought we were truthful with one another. That even after all we've gone through, we had that._

_Had that . . . maybe we never had that at all._

 

"What type of a name is _Xander_ , anyway?" Liam hiccoughed, hand reaching out to the front and side of him, trying in vain to find his glass across a fairly sticky tabletop.

"That guy in Buffy was Xander, wasn't he?" Niall asked in return. 

Liam raised his head and frowned. Niall'd taken his glass and had a stupid answer. "Yes, he was, but like, that's a show, yeah? No one in real life is called that – and give me back my drink." 

Liam made grabby hands but Niall just slammed down the last of his drink and Liam's own, brow pinching in disgust. "What the _hell_ were you drinking, mate?" 

Liam shrugged and pushed up off the table as he stumbled to his feet, the sound of his chair falling to the tiles echoing in the quiet kitchen around them. Quiet because it was half empty. Quiet because there were only the two of them here and there were supposed to be three.

Harry. Harry was . . . .

"I need a drink." Liam blinked hard and staggered to the kitchen island, where earlier that afternoon he'd set up every bottle of liquor they had in the house. When he'd come home with an arm full of groceries and a smile on his lips and plans for a night in. A few nights in, really. 

He'd been away from their home in LA for the longest time this tour. After they finished recording album three, Liam had planned on taking Harry away. A proper holiday like they hadn't had since the first album had come out. 

Then album three had been nominated for a bunch of awards that resulted in bigger venues, selling out arenas the world over, and they'd toured the UK twice, but it was time for a rest. It'd been basically four years of nonstop recording and touring, and Liam missed knowing what it was like to wake up in his own bed. To wake up to Harry in the comfort of his own home. To just spend time with Harry at all. Six months he'd be home this time. Six months with no songwriting or touring or fucking PR shit. Six months, and he planned on finally sorting out all of Harry's weird silences and sighs down cables from one side of the world to the other.

"Mate, I think you've had enough. What'll Harry say when he comes home and finds you like this?" Niall asked, sounding slightly worried as he ran a hand through his freshly bleached blond hair.

Liam laughed. Home? This wasn't a "home" any more.

"Don't know about that. Don't think Harry's of any concern," Liam answered, pouring what was probably Malibu and vodka into a new glass and adding a good splash of Coke before he walked back over to Niall, slamming his free hand down onto the table.

"What . . ." Niall led off. He opened the envelope Liam had found on the fridge after he'd searched the house high and low for Harry's presence. Checking every room and feeling more and more sick with every missing photo frame, every blank space where a memory of their life together had once stood. Liam sat heavily in his chair, nursing his drink as Niall read, his face becoming more drawn.

"Who the fuck is Xander?" he asked when he finally put the paper down, worried eyes lifting to Liam across the table.

Liam shrugged. "Harry's new boyfriend, looks like." 

"Thought he was just a mate?" Niall asked, pushing Harry's note to the centre of the table. He looked a bit green around the gills. 

"So did I. Every time I'd call and he'd be too busy to talk, off to lunch with Xander, I'd brush it off. Drinks with Xander, movies with Xander, fucking meeting Stevie Nicks with fucking Xander, and I thought, no. No, you got all caught up in that Azoff mess before and it was all innocent. Harry's allowed friends. Harry loves you. You trust him. Harry'd never do anything . . . ” Liam took in a shaky breath, then let it out slowly and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He wasn't going to let another tear drop. He'd cried enough about Harry and all of _this_. He wouldn't cry any more.

"Fuck," Niall said, shaking his head. "Do you know that he did?" he asked with raised brows.

Liam shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Seems there's not a lot I _do_ know about Harry any more. I haven't seen him in months and I walk into this. You read the letter, what do you think?"

Niall shook his head and quiet enveloped them both for a beat before Niall let out this long breath, snatching Liam's drink from his fingertips and chugging down over half of it. "I dunno, Liam. I really don't. He seemed happy when we talked last week. But we were more chatting about me caddying for Rory, nothing about you two. Nothing about anything like this. Fuck, mate. Fuck." 

"That's what I said. And then I started drinking. You're making this round, seeing as you drank mine." Liam nodded back at his makeshift bar. 

It hurt to hear that Niall had spoken to Harry not so long ago. Every time Liam called, it'd go to voicemail and Harry would text back hours later, usually when Liam was on stage or asleep. Times when Harry would had to have known that Liam couldn't respond. He couldn't think about what it meant that Niall didn't know either. Niall, who'd basically been friends with Harry for as long as Liam had known him. Niall'd become close with Harry when he'd had to take a few months off for his knee operation and Harry'd basically thrust himself into being the one to take care of Niall while he was recovering. If Niall hadn't known about any of this, then what hope did Liam have at ever fixing anything if Harry'd been keeping a secret this close to his chest?

Niall got up and poured them each another. Whatever he’d mixed tasted a lot better to Liam this time around. God, everything hurt, even with all that he'd drunk and the crying jag he might have had before Niall had turned up . . . everything still _hurt_.

"Where's this Xander bloke even from? Like, Annie hasn't mentioned him and I know she's seen Harry around outside of work now he's quit, but–"

Liam's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Harry quit his job?" 

Harry loved working with Annie. Niall had met her at some environmental charity event she'd been invited to and heard about her needing an assistant ,and while he flirted with her, Harry got a job. Harry _adored_ it. He learned more about the technical side of photography, something he played around with sometimes, and traveled a little up and down the coast, which eased Liam's mind about him staying at home so often. It kept Harry busy and people mostly stopped asking him about Liam, which Liam knew annoyed Harry some. When you photographed animals and landscapes it wasn't as if they were going to wonder what Liam James Payne ate for breakfast, was it? Photography wasn't anything to do with Harry's law degree, but Harry hadn't taken the bar so it wasn't as if he could practice or anything. He'd never even looked into it when they'd moved out. Said he was happy to take a break for a while, try out other things after studying so much. 

Was that a lie, too? Had anything they'd ever discussed been real at all?

"Just after I had my knee op at Christmas. How did you think he spent all that time looking after me, Liam?" Shock coloured Niall's tone, echoed in his wide-eyed stare.

Fuck. What did Liam actually _know_ about Harry this year at all? Ever?

"That was nearly six months ago, Li. I thought you two were okay? I thought you were going to sort everything out?" Niall actually looked disappointed at Liam now. Like this was _his_ fault.

Everyone knew they'd had issues. Harry refusing to come out when they had time off on tour. Liam missing a few important dates for Harry at home what with the tour and recording and things he probably could have gotten out of but hadn't. It was hard when he was back with Harry. It never felt like he was there long enough to make Harry happy. Then again, never felt like he could leave fast enough to satisfy Harry, either. They didn't fight. That would require talking or even being in the same room together when they _were_ in the same place. It was this unending silence that seemed to always be on the verge of being more, but one of them would cut out before anything happened. Liam hadn't wanted to believe that there was a possibility of them not working it out. He thought Harry was on the same page. That they just needed time or something together, away from all the shit that was going on around them. Time to reconnect and sort out what they wanted.

Now it looked like Harry already had it figured out. 

He just hadn't informed Liam of any of this, until now.

"I can't even be that upset about this, you know? I knew he wasn't that happy and I kept pushing it to the back of my mind because it was us, and I'd be home soon and we'd sort it. It would be fine. But for him to do this, to just fucking clean house of all that we were for the past five years now . . . ." Liam closed his eyes, squeezing them tight as he felt his heart shatter even more. "Now I wish I'd never bothered having him at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to my [Lucy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/snitchpuff/pseuds/loverave) for her added eyes on this and as always my **Brit** for checking the brit bits on all of everything I ever write as only she can do xx

_I'm not angry. Not any more._

 

His smile was the first thing Liam noticed.

He was across the room again, but not working the bar. No, not even drinking. Just sitting there on a stool with his beloved gold boots on his feet, a little tarnished now so many years on. The black skinny jeans he never tired of were a tight fit over his thighs where his legs were crossed. He looked good. Really good, with one of those floral shirts Liam had seen him wear in photos on Niall's Facebook unbuttoned halfway down his chest, that stupid butterfly tattoo near completely on show. His hair was still long – well, Liam thought it might be but it was pulled into a bun, a few stray curls tucked behind one of his ears like he'd thrown it all up in a rush.

Still, Liam couldn't take his eyes off him. Even missed his first verse because of it. Harry'd smiled harder as Niall bumped into Liam's shoulder, a mouthed "What's wrong?" that Liam shook off.

He got it the next go around, but still, he kept his eyes on Harry until they played the last of their set and headed off stage.

Five years. Five years since they'd been in the same room together. Five years since it had all fallen apart with a note and a house that was no longer a home.

Liam's feet took him to Harry as if he had no choice in the matter.

"You sound great," Harry said as Liam stood there in front of him, ignoring the rest of the bar. A few girls were trying to get his attention but Liam only had eyes for Harry. Always had done since that night in a pub so many years ago.

"Thanks," Liam nodded. God, Harry looked so good. So good. He didn't look all that different. Now Liam was closer he could see a few extra lines around his eyes, a thinness to his upper lip that hadn't been there before. He stilled filled out a shirt well, though. A few more tattoos on his arms that Liam didn't know intimately. The "I can't change" on his wrist covered with an anchor. Thick silver rings on his finger that weren't the ones Liam had bought him.

"You want a–"

"How've you–" 

Liam paused, looking down at his shoes as Harry chuckled nervously in front of him. Why he'd thought it would be a good idea to wear new shoes when he'd be mostly on his feet all night was beyond him. They pinched in the toe like a bitch and he was sure there was a blister forming on his left heel. 

"Sorry," Liam said, looking back up at Harry with a wry grin. God, he felt so nervous and this was just . . . it was _Harry_ , but at the same time it was Harry five years on. The same Harry who had left him with just a note. The same Harry he'd successfully avoided since then. Who Liam had tried to move on from.The same Harry he hadn't ever been able to get out of his mind.

Harry shook his head. "It's–" he led off with a shrug, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Asking how you are seems a bit like a crap thing to start off with, really."

"A little. About the same as 'You want a drink?' when clearly you have one." Liam glanced down at the glass in Harry's hand, half filled with liquid and a slice of lime. Liam would have bet money on it being a gin and tonic. Seemed more than one thing had stayed the same.

The bird behind the bar appeared then, looking at Liam, and he ordered a Coke. His days of drinking were long gone. Harry didn't bat an eyelash; then again, Liam expected he would know something of Liam's life. The paps had done a smashing job of putting his face everywhere after he was in that altercation with security in New York, forced into rehab and not touching a drop since.

He sipped at his drink and Harry did his as the sounds of the party started filtering back in. It was a private event, a charity gig for something Louis'd been a part of once they started getting a name for themselves. Even more so in the past two years when he'd discovered he was going to be a dad, a one night stand that turned into a little lad he wouldn't be parted from. Liam hadn't expected to really see anyone he knew here, especially not the man sitting in front of him. Not here in London, when the last Liam had heard LA was still Harry's home.

"I meant it. The set was great," Harry said after the silence between them had gone on for what felt like too long. "You sound really good."

Liam nodded his thanks again, sipped his drink and tried to think of what he could say next that wouldn't make him sound like a fool. He was, though. He was still a fool around Harry, still so unsure of himself because of the history they had, the past he'd never really been able to leave behind.

"Didn't expect to see you here," was what he settled for when he could feel Harry's eyes trained on him and he couldn't stay silent any longer.

Harry swirled the ice in his glass, near melted. "Louis sent me the invite. Told me it was in my best interest to buy a table, if not two."

Liam had been told the same thing. He'd bought two and consented to auctioning off one of his old guitars, as well as playing for free on the night. He'd actually come out of it a bit better than Josh, who'd ended up having to put himself up for auction for a "date night" with the lucky winner. It'd gone surprisingly well earlier. A close bidding war between a woman who had to be in her late fifties and some starlet that Liam thought Josh might have slipped some extra money to help her win with. Liam was sure he'd seen her around at rehearsals the previous week. Then again, if he’d been put in a similar position he probably would have paid for someone to bid on him, too.

"I paid for two. One for the family and the other I gave away to the Priory Centre. They deserve a night of fun, that lot."

Harry smiled softly, his fingertips a light touch on Liam's wrist where he was leaning on the bar. Liam's whole side buzzed from it. "I meant what I said before, Li. You look good. Really good."

Liam knew what he was getting at. Hadn't been able to see at the time, three years back, when his life had gone utterly tits-up. He drank too much, put things in his body that he shouldn't have, and got angry far too often. Long gone was the fit body he'd worked so hard for. The smile that was so often in magazines everywhere was lost to a sneer or his face hidden by giant sunglasses or his own hand flipping them the bird. Liam snorted, unable to look away from Harry's earnest stare. "I'm trying, yeah. It's hard sometimes but, you know, day by day and all that."

Harry stared at him, eyes soft, and Liam could read the apologies all over his face. Knew what Harry was going to say before he even opened his mouth. This wasn’t really the place, though, too many eyes that might find them, too many ears that might listen in on their words.

“Do you want to talk somewhere?” Harry asked, looking a little as if those weren’t exactly the words he intended to have come out.

Liam paused. He could just leave. Walk away like Harry had all those years ago, or he could finally talk this through, maybe work out what had gone wrong between them instead of guessing at Harry’s side of it.

“Yeah,” Liam answered on a breath. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” 

Harry smiled and stood, beckoning with a tilt of his head for Liam to follow. Liam did, only realising as they made their way outside past security that Harry’s hand had slipped down from his wrist. Their fingers slotted together in a loose grip around each other's knuckles. He followed Harry along a path that led to the side of the house – mansion, really – down some stairs toward the gardens. Liam had seen a little of them earlier, chasing after Louis’ little boy before Jay had come to take him home for the night. He had a vague idea of where Harry was taking him as they wandered down the stone path and stopped at the balcony that overlooked one of the ponds, a lone water feature softly bubbling in the middle. When Harry let their fingers drop, Liam kept the tremble out of his fingertips by grasping the concrete balustrade tight. The moonlight from above reflected over the pond, broken only by the long arms of the large willow tree that loomed from one side. With Harry this presence beside him, this moment could have been something along the lines of romantic. 

Liam wasn’t sure that what was finally going to be aired between them would be anything to support that. Or if it was something he wanted.

“He picked a good place for this, didn’t he?” Liam asked once the silence of night descended around them, the noise from the party fading in the distance.

Harry cleared his throat. “Must have cost him a few quid.”

“Might actually have to make that fifth album after all,” Liam chuckled, but it fell flat. He didn’t really think this was what Harry wanted to take him away from everyone to discuss. Didn’t think he really wanted to talk about Louis’ income now the band had been in hiatus for the past year and half. 

Harry didn’t say anything more and Liam didn’t, either. He hadn’t seen Harry like this, properly, for so long. When Harry’d emptied out their house, he’d never come back. Liam had tried to find where he was through mutual friends, drunk-dialled Harry’s phone too many times, but Harry’d got a new number. He cut off Niall and the other lads in the band for a few years, too, while Liam went on a somewhat downward spiral and Harry had a new life that didn’t involve him at all. God, he had so many questions and so much to apologise for, but he was hurt, too. He wanted Harry to explain as much as he wanted to explain himself.

Liam glanced to his left, catching Harry’s profile. He was looking out over the water, forefinger and thumb pinching at his bottom lip, a sure sign he was nervous and thinking deeply. 

Maybe it would have to be Liam who spoke first. Maybe it was something he could do for both of them.

“I’m sorry,” Liam spoke soft, not trusting his voice to hold, there was already a tightness in his chest from emotion building. “I’m sorry I was so shit to you back then. Took you for granted so much.”

“Liam,” Harry started, but Liam wanted to do this, wanted to do it right, now that he had the opportunity.

He turned and shook his head. “No, just – let me talk for a minute, yeah? I think it’s important.” 

Harry nodded slow, tucking a stray curl behind his ear as he turned to the side, leaning against the stone with his hip, green eyes focused fully on Liam. 

Liam took in a shaky breath, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I am sorry. I’m sorry for the part I had in us not working. All the times I kept pushing you to the side and putting music or management or anything but you first. You deserved better than that. You deserved better than me just assuming you’d be there for everything, that you didn’t need my support as much as I craved yours.”

 

Harry was shaking his head, reaching out to put his hand on Liam’s elbow. “You tried, Liam. You were always asking me to come with you and I always found an excuse and–”

“Harry, can you let me apologise for this, just . . . please?” Liam interrupted. He’d wanted to say sorry for so long and had never had the opportunity. Never really pushed for it, either, with how hurt he’d been at the start and upset with himself about how he’d treated Harry in the end. 

Harry huffed, but squeezed at Liam’s elbow. “I can accept that, yeah. But you have to let me explain, too. I never told you properly how you were making me feel but I never did anything about it, either. I lost myself in you. Lost myself in being everything for you and forgetting to be anything for myself. I could have spoken to you about things so many times but I didn’t, because I thought loving you was enough, until it just . . . .” Harry shrugged, and Liam could see tears building in his eyes, a sheen that even the muted moonlight from above picked up.

He slipped his hand out of his jacket, linked his fingers with Harry’s own. “Until it wasn’t.”

Harry smiled, but it came with a sniff, a tear rolling down his cheek that he wiped away with the back of his free hand. “Yeah. And fuck, Liam, I’m so sorry for the way I left you. I’ve hated myself for that for so long. Even when I was moving all my stuff, taking things apart that I knew would hurt you the most, I knew it was a bad idea, but I was just so angry. Angry at what my life had become, angry at you for not seeming to care about us. I wanted to hurt you as much as I was hurting, so I left and . . . I wasn’t even _with_ Xander then, but I knew what saying his name would do, what throwing it in there would make you think.”

Liam swallowed hard and his grip on Harry loosened at the sound of Xander’s name, old anger a quick burn through his bones. “I thought . . . there were pictures of you, though? On your Instagram and Facebook. You changed your fucking relationship status, Harry.”

Harry ducked his head. “That was after. Long after I’d left you. Xander wanted something and he never pushed while I was with you. But he was the reason that I finally let you go. He was there, you know? He was there and he was interested in me and he kept asking why I was doing a job I didn’t love, and why I wasn’t using my degree, and why I was staying in something I was so obviously unhappy with, and I realised he was right. Being with him came much later, only once I’d sorted myself out.”

Liam was getting properly worked up about this now. It didn’t matter that it was in the past and done with. “You could have told me all of those things, you know? I came home that night and I was so set on working out what was wrong with us. I’d booked us this holiday away from everyone and everything to fix us, but you’d already decided we weren’t worth that. You didn’t even say goodbye, just that fucking letter, Harry. Do you know how badly I’ve felt about you? Thought you’d cheated on me, cheated on us!” 

“It wasn’t as if there was an ‘us’ to cheat on! You were _never there_." Harry raised his voice in return. "You never asked me what I wanted, only told me what would be best for us. Like, did you even think about whether I’d be able to take all that time off work for your ‘fix-it’ holiday? Did you even consider that I might have things going on in my own life before you yet again lumped me in with yours? I was like another piece of luggage for you, just this commodity you could shift around and use when needed.”

Liam shifted back, felt a bit like he’d been hit. “I never . . . I didn’t mean to. I, fuck, I didn’t–”

“You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you," Harry added, all the fight going out of his tone. "I kept so much from you because in the end I just didn't think you cared." He shrugged, looking down at the ground.

"Care? I _always_ cared, Harry. I may have ignored what was going on between us but I loved you. I love you and I thought it was enough, and maybe it was for me, or maybe it was ridiculous that I thought like that, but don't doubt how much I love you." Liam stopped, trying to catch his breath, heart beating loud and reckless in his ears.

Harry was silent and Liam felt like he'd gone too far. Said too much. Harry was still holding his hand, though. Still keeping a tether between them, as tense as it might have been right then, as loose as it had become through their years apart. Still unbroken, but maybe a little frayed around the edges.

"Love," Harry whispered after minutes had passed in relative silence between them. His voice was so soft that Liam wasn't exactly sure he'd heard the word at all.

"Some loves you don't fall out of." Liam shrugged, a truth too close to his heart to lie about. Not now. Not after all this time.

Harry nodded and Liam watched as he took in a shaky breath, letting it out on a long sigh.

Maybe it was too much. Maybe Harry didn't feel like Liam did any more. Maybe he'd never felt like Liam had, right from the start. 

"Come home with me," Harry said, still facing the pond. He squeezed Liam's hand, turning around eventually, his gaze still focused somewhere on the ground. "Come home with me, please."

Liam shook his head, a feeling he couldn't label blooming in his chest. "Harry," he answered softly.

"Just . . . don't say no. This doesn't have to be difficult, Liam. Just – just come home with me, come home with me now."

Liam looked at Harry. Really looked at him, taking in his shy smile, dimple deep on the left side, and his eyes bright with promise. Liam could see that he was sure about this, that it was actually something he wanted. Something he wanted enough to ask for.

Liam squeezed Harry's hand tight in his own. 

"All right, Harry. All right."

 

_Sometimes I wake up and it's like I can still feel you lying next to me. Feel the warmth of you inches from my fingertips, only to remember you're gone when I reach out to hold you and find an empty space instead. You never know when the last time is going to be_ the last time _, do you? Don't think I would have let you go if I'd known then what I do now._

 

Liam had no real recollection how they made it upstairs, to Harry's bedroom. Once there, they'd made quick work of their clothes. Well, Harry'd stripped Liam fast. He'd barely taken a second to rid himself of his own button down, tiny yellow buttons flying as he tugged the thing over his head with one hand, the other focused on pulling Liam's fly down. He'd pushed Liam onto the bed the moment his hands were both free, dragging Liam's jeans and pants down his legs in one go. Harry's green eyes were focused on Liam's own, this potent gaze that Liam couldn't bring himself to break. Not now, not after all this time. 

Harry's fingertips were a slow drag from the curve of Liam's calves up until he was spreading Liam's knees apart, crawling between Liam's legs. His breath a wet heat as he bent low, a gentle caress on the paler skin of Liam's inner thighs and Liam could only gasp and choke on bitten off moans as each kiss lingered into a nip here, a mark left there. Liam crushed the duvet in his fists, needing something to ground him to the here and now. The fact that this was happening. 

Harry was so close to where Liam's cock was hard and twitching up against his belly. Fuck, did he want more, need more, but Harry was focused and Liam didn't want to break this spell between them. He didn't have to in the end. Harry glanced up through dark lashes, lips a breath's distance from the crease of Liam's thigh, green eyes near glazed over. Liam's dick kicked, a blurt of precome bubbling up from the slit, Harry's tongue swiping over the tip with a barely concealed moan. 

Harry'd always loved giving Liam head. Loved doing anything and everything to Liam's body, really. Great sex had never been their problem, whenever they'd been together.

Liam blinked and then Harry was right there, taking him in slow, the ends of his curls brushing against the twitching planes of Liam's stomach. His fingers a hard press in the meat of Liam's thighs as he went down, down, taking Liam right to the back of his throat. Christ, Liam's heart was thundering in his chest now, as Harry's hand circled the base of his cock, holding him steady. The flat of Harry's tongue was relentlessly swirling round the tip, foreskin tight at the head. _Jesus_. Liam's toes curled into the plush carpet as Harry shuffled even closer, forehead butting Liam's belly as he went down on Liam again and again. His hair was just _everywhere_ and hiding his face from Liam's eyes. He needed to see, but wasn't sure what the rules here were. Did Harry still like it when someone played with his hair? Was he still as into being directed as he had once been? 

The decision was made when Harry came up for air. His lips bruised and puffed up rosy red, slick with spit and precome as he looked up at Liam, lashes damp from where he'd gone a bit too far before. "Please, Li- just, my-"

It wasn't really a sentence - wasn't really a demand, either - but Liam understood. He let loose the duvet, and with a shaking hand, swept Harry's dark, damp hair from his forehead and neck, gathering as much as he could into a tight fist at the top of Harry's head. The moan Harry released when their eyes finally locked reverberated down Liam's shaft and it took everything not to let his hips jack up, force more of his cock into the sweet suction of Harry's mouth. 

Harry seemed to want it anyway, pushing his head up into Liam's hand before taking Liam in, down, down until he was near choking. He blinked up at Liam with wet eyes when he came up again, crown of Liam's dick sat on the fat of bottom lip. "Please, Li. You can, want you to."

Christ, his voice was already hoarse. 

"Oh fuck, Harry," 

His mouth was just so warm and wet and Liam had to bite his lip with the effort not to blurt out anything else. It wasn't as if he hadn't had any blowjobs or sex after Harry, but it was different when someone knew you so well. Someone who knew exactly what it was that made you moan or lose that tiny bit of self control, give in to what felt _good_. Liam and Harry had had over five years together. Even if it’d now been the same amount of time apart, there were some things you just didn't forget. 

Like how much Harry liked having his hair played with. 

Harry's curls felt like silk beneath his fingertips. Soft and thick and perfect as he pushed down, held Harry where he wanted him. For a second, when he looked and saw how utterly blissed out Harry was, lashes fluttering against his cheek, it was as if five years, six, seven hadn't passed. This could have been in their bedroom in Malibu, on their sofa in their penthouse at Canary Wharf, the tiny loo backstage in some arena in France, that poxy flat with the mustard carpet way back in the beginning. 

So much had happened since then. So many wrong turns and endings yet they still made it here. They were _here_ now. It had to mean something, didn't it?

The thought, just a glimpse of what it might mean had his next breath shuddering in his chest.

It felt so good as Harry took him deeper, Liam holding him down for an extra beat with the flutter of Harry's throat at the tip. The soft, almost desperate sound of Harry whining when he did, Harry squeezing at Liam's thighs so hard there were sure to be bruises. Liam wanted them. Wanted to know that there would be evidence of whatever this was to be found later. Little pieces of what they were creating that he could touch and feel so it wasn't merely a memory. 

Harry bumped up at Liam's hand twice, a sign he wanted Liam to relax his hold which Liam did, almost from muscle memory. Harry drew off with a loud wet pop. "Jesus, Li. . . I want," Harry panted, lips a soft caress over the tip of Liam's prick. His pupils were so blown out there was hardly even a hint of colour left at all. God, Harry was getting off on this and that was so incredibly hot.

Harry seemed to have his own agenda, easing back a little from between Liam's legs, his hands resting over Liam's knees. "Lay back a bit, yeah?" Harry asked, tongue swiping quick across his bottom lip, bruised red. 

Liam did, lifting his knees toward his chest as Harry's palms swept under his thighs, moving Liam where he wanted. Liam's eyes slipped shut as his head came to rest on the mattress, his breathing sounded loud in his ears and Harry was being so quiet. 

"Oh, _fuck_!" Liam cursed, as the flat of Harry’s tongue swept across his hole and up to his bollocks. Oh god. It'd been so long, _so_ long since anyone had. . . and Harry was just. 

For the first time since he'd caught Harry's eyes across a room, Liam closed his own. 

It was too much. Too much with how good Harry was at this. The sounds Harry was making as he circled the tip of his tongue over the tight furl of Liam's hole. Pulled Liam's cheeks apart so he could fit his mouth there, licking and sucking and making such a wet mess between Liam's thighs, he could feel it dripping down between them. Liam's back arched, his hold on his knees slipping as he tried to keep them as close to his chest as possible, give Harry the room he so obviously wanted. Liam cursed, biting at his lip as the tip of Harry's tongue pressed in close, getting deeper and deeper as Liam loosened up. 

"Fuck, _shit_!" Liam swore again, as the pad of Harry's finger circled his rim, following the same circuit as his tongue sending Liam's nerves into overdrive. His heart was pounding, tattooing a rhythm that was sure to take chips out of his ribs with each beat. 

Harry's finger slid in slow, up to one knuckle and then deeper still as he bit at Liam's thigh taking Liam’s breath away. It was sensation overload as he started fucking into Liam while his lips skimmed Liam’s length, precome blurting sticky onto Liam’s stomach as he did. Liam’s hands slipped on his sweat tacky skin as Harry took the head of Liam’s cock into his mouth, a distraction as one finger became two. The hum of Harry’s mouth reverberated down his shaft, Harry's thumb rubbing slow circles at his rim as Harry scissored his fingers on the slide out. 

“Harry, Harry, _fuck,_ ” Liam near begged, unable to to get much more out as Harry’s tongue slid between his fingers, teasing at Liam’s skin. His free hand took over on Liam’s cock, jacking him slow, a slick glide from spit and precome. It was so much, too much. 

When Harry added a third finger, stars bloomed in technicolour bursts behind Liam’s eyes, his nails dug into the underside of his knees, sure to leave deep pink marks behind. He was so close to losing control before this but now. . . .

The sound of Harry between his legs was dirty and wet, so, so wet as he spat between his fingers, Liam’s skin flushed with heat it was almost a relief before Harry started twisting his fingers again. A knuckle or two brushing up against Liam’s prostate in a near continuous manner that had Liam’s thighs shaking. Christ, he was gonna come, Harry was going to have him coming like this and not yet, not yet. Liam needed him closer than this. Needed to feel Harry inside him proper once more. 

"Harry, wait. _Harry_ ," Liam gasped as Harry mouthed at Liam’s bollocks, this wet heat that had Liam’s eyes near rolling into the back of his head. Pleasure curled deep in his gut, spilling through his veins and making his chest tight. 

"What, is it all right?" 

All right? That was an understatement that had Liam huffing out a laugh. "Yeah, just. I don't want to come yet, not like this," Liam couldn't really get what he wanted to say out. he didn't want Harry to stop, but he also wanted more. 

Harry paused, removed his fingers slow only to slide his palms up the quivering muscle of Liam’s thighs, easing Liam’s hold and gradually bringing Liam’s feet to the mattress. His lips met the inside of Liam’s knee in a sweet kiss, the crease of his thigh, an inch left of his belly button as he crawled up the bed and over Liam. 

Harry’s hair was an absolute mess when Liam caught sight of the top of Harry’s head, his tongue flicking out over one of Liam's nipples, then the other. He nipped a mark between the two on Liam’s chest that was sure to last for days, making Liam gasp. He ran his hands down Harry’s sides, fingertips pushing at the waistband of Harry’s pants, his jeans having slide down further.

_“Harry,”_ Liam whined, unsure of what Harry was up to considering he could feel the scratchy material of Harry’s jeans between his thighs, where Harry was half lying. He blinked slow as Harry’s face came into view, a sly - almost self satisfied - grin with one dimple on display. His lips were red raw and puffy and Liam thought nothing of it to reach up, thread his fingers through Harry’s hair at the back of his neck and pull him in close. Harry deepened the kiss quick, his tongue moving swift and slick against Liam’s own. Liam tightened his grip in Harry’s hair, needing him closer still. It was almost painful with how Harry rutted up against him when he did. The denim covering Harry’s legs scraping up against Liam’s bare cock causing his lashes to flutter. Why wasn't Harry naked yet?

“Harry, please,” Liam begged against Harry’s lips, gasped out another plea as Harry nipped at the line of his jaw, his mouth a firm press at Liam’s throat as he tilted his head back. “Babe, please. I, I need - _please_.” The term of endearment slipped almost too easily from his tongue. 

“Okay,” Harry said after a moment, pulling himself back with a deep line between his eyes, marring his forehead. As if he were coming to a decision or perhaps just realising how certain Liam was of what he wanted now. “Okay.”

He shook his head as if to clear it, rolling off Liam to the side of the bed where he dragged his jeans down, wriggling out of his pants as he fiddled about in the top of his bedside drawers. A box and a tube coming flying onto the bed before Liam was sent bouncing a bit, as Harry near jumped back onto the mattress with him. 

Liam’s laugh filled the room, joined quickly by Harry’s as he got between Liam’s legs once more. The smile on his face made him look younger, reminded Liam of how they were when they first got together. Of how easy it was to bring Harry home that night at the pub. How easy it was to decide not to let him go.

He’d taken so much of Harry for granted, he didn’t want to do that anymore.

“You, you sure about this?” Liam asked, a slight stutter in his tone as he reached out with one hand, his fingertips a light touch on Harry’s wrist where his hand rested on Liam’s thigh. 

Harry’s head tilted to the side, his curls falling down in a mess over one eye. “About this? About us, now?”

Liam nodded, ignoring the tightness in his chest that seemed to appear out of nowhere with how serious Harry had begun to sound. He knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t just Harry for tonight. He’d take it, yes. . . but he wanted more. Had always wanted more. He knew he could do it better, do _them_ better if he tried, if Harry let him.

Harry leaned in, hands planted on Liam’s chest as he ducked in slow, kissed Liam deep and passionate. His eyes were so green, so clear as he looked back at Liam.

“I’m sure I want you. I don’t think I’ve ever been unsure of that, really,” 

And well, that was good enough for now. Liam kissed him back quick, hands finding their way to Harry’s waist. Harry’s skin was so warm as Liam slid his hands up over Harry’s back, holding him close, keeping him near as he deepened the kiss between them. Harry moaned into Liam’s mouth, sitting up after a moment with a determined look. He grabbed at the condom, rolling it on swiftly as Liam watched, held out the lube when Harry was done. His mouth was near watering, body on edge as Harry slicked himself up, put more on the tips of his fingers, rubbing them together before sliding them in Liam again, one finger curled at the rim and stretching Liam out, making sure he was ready.

Liam grunted a bit, knowing it’d been a while - a long while - since he’d let anyone fuck him and Harry wasn’t exactly small so the extra care was definitely warranted. He’d had enough of that, though. Harry’d done an exemplary job now he just wanted Harry’s cock deep inside, fucking the thought of anyone else ever being in this position with Liam completely out of his mind. And out of Harry’s, too, if Liam could help it. 

Harry’s fingertips were light as they ran up Liam’s thigh, curled around his right knee, bringing it up close to Liam’s body, holding him open as Harry lined himself up with his free hand. Once, twice, he slid the tip of his cock through the slick between Liam’s legs, the tip slipping over the rim each time until finally it caught, Harry pushing in slow and reminding Liam to breath as his body let Harry inside. Christ it was good, so fucking good. How Liam had gone as long as he had - since the last time he and Harry’d been in this position - was beyond him. He hadn’t let anyone else do this. He never really questioned why. Though in his heart of hearts he knew.

“Fuck, Liam, babe, you’re so. . . feel so. . . .” Harry lead off, rolling his hips slow, splitting Liam apart little by little. Liam tried to concentrate on breathing even though it felt like his chest was fit to burst. He felt so much and his heart, his heart seemed to be knitting back together, the unused part that forever belonged to Harry stuttering back into use. 

Harry bottomed out, stilling for a moment, bottom lip quivering as he breathed shakily in and out, giving Liam time to adjust. Liam didn’t need that, not now, he just wanted Harry. All of him. 

Liam curled his hand over Harry’s shoulder, reaching up off the bed to close the distance between them. He nipped at the point of Harry’s chin groaning as Harry rutted forward, hand slipping, pushing Liam’s leg out more. 

“C’mon, Haz. Need you to-” Liam started, eyes fluttering to a close as Harry _finally_ moved. “Yeah,” Liam whispered, lips close to Harry’s cheek. “Like that.”

Harry moaned low, lips catching Liam's in a dirty kiss that his tongue echoed each thrust of his hips, dicking into Liam deep. He felt so full, Harry filling him up and stretching him wide, Harry's cock sliding in sweet as he sped up his movements. It felt so good, so perfect like they'd never stopped. Like this could have been any of the times they'd ever been together. Yet different, because there was no time limit for them now. No flights to ready for, tours to plan, no jealous scores to settle. Lost time, though? Plenty of that to make up for.

Liam's hands were restless over Harry's skin, needing to touch him everywhere, keep him close, feel as much as he could. The broad span of his back, the twist and shift of muscle that played under skin that had failed to completely lose its summer tan. His shoulders, Christ, Harry's shoulders. The dark lines that littered his body in scattered shapes and meanings, Liam's favourites: the twin birds on his chest. To lean in and press his tongue to every inked line he knew well and those that he didn't. To get lost in Harry like this was something he thought he'd never get to have again, he didn't want to even consider that this might be another last time. Not with the little they'd both said. All they'd both admitted to now. 

"Like this?" Harry asked, voice so deep it near melted in Liam's ear where his teeth were close, nipping at the lobe. "Want me to fuck you like this?"

Liam could only whimper, pressing a weak hand to Harry's cheek as he brought Harry's mouth back to Liam's own. "Yeah, yes, _yes_ ," he said, pressing each word to Harry's lips, licking the hint of laughter from Harry's mouth with the twirl of his tongue.

Harry's free hand slid over Liam's chest, brushing through the hair there, light over his nipple and back up and over his shoulder, gripping tight. Liam could feel every touch like a spark to his skin, the warmth in his belly, that tug down deep in his gut pulling tight now as every roll of Harry's hips, every part of them that was touching had him closer and closer to coming. It was too soon though, too soon when all he wanted was this feeling to continue. This knife's edge Harry had him on, the way he'd press in deep and pull out nearly all the way before fucking back in again was exquisite. Each brush of his lips against Liam's own dragging him closer and closer and fuck, _fuck_.

Harry's hand slipped under Liam's knee, changing the angle enough to have Liam shouting a curse. Two more strokes and he was coming without any chance to stave it off. His orgasm thundering through his body, fingertips pressed deep into the flesh of Harry's bicep, the soft curve of his waist as he held on, cock spurting wet between them. 

"Fuck, Liam, _Liam_ ," Harry blinked, tone a mix of shock and awe as Liam continued to come, painting his chest with sticky white and a spot near his bloody birthmark by the feel of it. He couldn't answer Harry back, could barely remember to breathe as Harry slowed the roll of his hips, a delicious drag as Liam's body shook and shuddered, leaving Liam a panting mess. 

"Keep, keep going," he managed to choke out, licking over his lips and swallowing hard, his throat dry and slightly scratchy from the sounds he'd made as Harry continued to move, slow and sure. 

That line was there in between his eyes again, and Liam reached up with a ridiculously shaky hand, pushed at it weakly with his thumb. "Please, please. Need you to. . . want you to come in me, Harry. Harry, please,"

Harry was silent for one beat, two. Big eyes blinking slow at where Liam lay beneath him, barely breathing himself. God it was so much. So much to have Harry like this again, now. 

"Oh god. Oh god okay, okay," Harry mumbled and with a low whine he shifted position, moved Liam's thighs around his waist and planted his hands into the mattress either side of Liam's head. 

Liam crossed his ankles, trying to keep Harry close as his body weight pressed Liam into the bed. Harry really let go then, fucking into Liam hard and fast, shaking the bed frame against the wall with a steady thump, thump thump. Fuck, Liam was. . . it was too much but not enough. Liam nipped his way over the sharp line of Harry's collarbone, leaving his own marks as he went, barely able to do much else. Liam was still so sensitive he was near shaking as Harry's breath sped up, Liam's name interspersed with gasps and cut off groans at Liam's ear. 

"Fuck, babe, Liam. Li - _fuck_!" Harry's breath was warm and wet where he had his face pressed into the crook of Liam's neck, his lips meeting Liam's skin on shaky exhales. Liam held on, arms tucked close against Harry's sides, fingertips grasping for purchase over the shift of muscles in Harry's back. Blunt nails dragging their way down the length of Harry's spine and up again, needing to see Harry's face. Needing to see him come apart one more time. See if it was the same as before.

He cradled Harry's jaw between his palms, couldn't stop staring at Harry's face, how hard Harry was trying to keep his eyes open. Keep his focus on Liam and only Liam as he was finally falling apart. 

"C'mon, Harry, let go, babe," Liam near whispered, this moment between them feeling so intimate. So much more than Liam could have ever hoped for. Imagined. 

Harry licked over his lips one last time, pretty white teeth sinking deep into his bruised bottom lip as he grunted. His hips shoving into Liam hard as he came, dick twitching deep inside making Liam's own prick - ridiculously half hard again - fill up further. Harry's eyes never left Liam's own as he shook and shuddered, rolling his hips against Liam again and again. Short punchy thrusts that had Liam tightening around Harry, wanting to keep him as close as possible for as long as he could. Harry's arms were shaking as he finally stilled, a breathy laugh falling from his lips, their eyes meeting as he near fell on top of Liam, teeth clacking as they kissed. 

 

_Yours faithfully, friend._

 

"I wrote you a letter once," Liam admitted, drawing his fingertips light over Harry's spine. He hadn't _stopped_ touching him, was the thing. If he did, Harry could disappear, and Liam wasn't ready for that. A week of staying in Harry's home, cocooned in four walls and relearning each other wasn't enough. Not nearly.

Life wasn’t going to come crashing in anytime soon. Liam had no album to make, no concert to perform, no country to fly out to. He was booked to work on The Voice but that wasn’t for a few months and Harry’d had a few clients he’d left to go see but nothing in court for another week. It was nice. Just being. Being together.

Harry turned his head so one green eye was showing, the rest of his face still smashed into the pillow. "A letter?"

"Yeah," Liam said, cheeks feeling flushed. "Didn't send it. Burnt it actually. My therapist thought it would be a good idea to get all my feelings out."

"Therapist . . . ." Harry turned over fully now, shuffling up the bed so his shoulder was pressed up against Liam's, eyes focused on Liam, who had to swallow hard. He wasn't used to having Harry's attention like this. It'd been a _long_ while.

"Everyone has one of those, Harry. You know what it's like in California. Nearly as regular as having a favourite juice bar." Liam didn’t tell Harry about how broken up he'd been by their split. How he'd punched out a few paps when they toured Europe later that year. How he'd walked out of half a dozen interviews and refused to go on stage one night because he was just so _angry_ about it all. Angry that Harry had left the way he had. Angry that he wasn't enough for Harry in the end. That he hadn’t fought harder for what they’d had. That he didn't even bother. It was either therapy or group anger management, Simon demanded, and Dr Winston was proficient in both of those so it all worked out in the end.

"Oh. Okay." Harry went quiet, eyes downcast, dark lashes hiding green eyes that Liam couldn't forget. Wouldn't. 

He curled a finger under Harry's chin, tilting his head up. "I'm good. I'm in a good place and I think you're in a good place. I don't think we've ever been on an even footing like this, Harry. I mean, we could . . . we were never friends first, and maybe we can be that."

Harry laughed, a sound Liam had missed on and off over the years. A hint of a smirk played over his rosy, kiss-bruised lips, his fingertips scratching lightly through the hairs on Liam's chest. It felt so good to have Harry back in his arms like this. So right.

"Might be a bit late to just be friends, Liam. I don't know about you, but I'm naked under these sheets."

Liam snorted. "I'm just saying it could be good for us. If we, like, move forward. Take things slow – slower – maybe. Like, if we talked more. We never said things when we should have."

The thing was, Liam was hopeful. For the first time in a long time, he was hopeful that they could rekindle something, that what they'd had could be what they could have again, but better.

"I know. I kind of let your world take over mine." Harry's tone turned serious, the light and laughter that had been there before gone now as he focused his green eyes on Liam's. Spoke from the heart. "I forgot who I was and who I wanted to be, and I blamed you for it so much. I never took responsibility for my own actions. I should have talked to you better, not just let it all fester until all I could think about was getting out." 

Liam swallowed hard. Even now, after all they'd said, all that had been hashed out this week, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. How much they'd loved each other. How easily they'd let it all fall apart.

"We can try harder. Do it right. I won't take you for granted. I'll put you – put us – first."

Harry nodded, pushing at Liam's chest until his back hit the bed. He was all smiles as he threw his leg over Liam's waist to settle above him. Harry leaned forward, cupping Liam's cheeks with both hands, green green eyes focused on Liam's own. "We'll be great. This time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! X

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> [yell at me on tumblr](http://www.slightlytotheleft.tumblr.com) // reblog if you feel the urge [here](http://slightlytotheleft.tumblr.com/post/129908329559/yours-faithfully-friend-nc17-liamharry-its) ta muchly x


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